Her Invisible Wings
by laurel alex
Summary: Fang meets a broken girl named Max, who claims to have wings. After atempting to jump off a building, Max is checked into a mental hospital where she is given therapy and told what she believes are lies. Max finds a haven in her constant visitor, Fang, as the two start developing feelings for each other. LOTS OF FAX! Must read! Please R
1. Chapter 1

**Hey fanfictioners! I hope you enjoy this prologue to my new story, Her Invisible Wings. Yes, this is a short entry but the following chapters will be much longer! R&R and tell me how you like it! Enjoy!**

Prologue

_The walls were sterile white and unforgiving; a cream colored tile claimed the floors beneath my shoes. Bright lights bleed into my eyes, so unintentionally blinding._

_She sat in the middle of the small, brass bed, tangled in the sheets as if she'd just had a battle with them – and by the looks of it, she'd lost._

_Her small breath heaved in and out of her petite, fragile body as her sobs hammered her shoulders. Her wet cheeks glisened._

_I stood at the doorway awkwardly and then dropped my head to my feet shamefully as her broken voice captured my ears._

_"I'm not crazy," she tells me casually. "Honestly. I'm not."_

_My eyes trailed up to her again, taking in the sight of her crazed eyes and straight jacket that led me to believe otherwise. I swallowed hard on a lump in my throat._

_"It's not like I've ever physically hurt anyone, or cut myself or gone anorexic. i've never done any of that shit. I'm not stupid." Her soft voice is urgent._

_"So . . . I tried jumping off a building." She giggles at this, thinking it's somehow funny. "I mean, I wasn't trying to commit suicide. I wouldn't die."_

_It's then that I realize just how truly sick she is. What she doesn't know is that I'd checked her files. The building she was found on was a good ten stories high. How could she say it so easily? How could she say she wasn't trying to kill herself?_

_"Wanna know a secret?" She offers._

_I don't respond, but she continues to tell me anyways. I can hear the whining of the springs under the bed as she leans forward closer to me._

_"I have wings," she whispers in a dreamy voice._

_I close my eyes shut, trying to keep myself calm._

_"I can fly," she insists. _

_My fists clench at my sides tightly. I refuse to look at her._

_"Do you want to see them?" she asks sweetly._

_I don't say a word._

_"No? Don't believe me?" her voice rises as she starts to realize the tension rolling off of me._

_"Well, then you can go fuck yourself," she spits out._

_My head snaps up at this, my eyes meeting her furious glare. Hot fresh tears stream down her face. Her lip curls. "I hate you." She's shaking her head at me, as if she disappointed. "I thought I could trust you."_

_Slowly I start to turn back to the door. "You can trust me," I promise, breaking my silence. "You can trust me because I love you." _

_Just as I'm about to leave her room, I stop at her words, all anger gone and replaced by desperation._

_"Help me."_

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	2. Chapter 2

**Hey fanfictioners I hope you enjoy this! Please R&R! **

Chapter 1

Calmly, I stood watching as Iggy frantically struggled to open the door to his Mom's car. He cussed under his breath, frustrated, as other students around us left our high school parking lot with ease.

I sighed.

"God dammit, this peice of shit car is gonna be the end of me," Iggy complained as he kicked his foot to the tire. He bit his lip, probably resisting screaming out in pain in front of me. "Seriously? You're just gonna stand there and watch?"

Smoothly, I shrugged. "Ig, you can only blame yourself for this. I told you I could have just drove us this morning. But no. _You_ wanted to drive so badly." Suddenly I thought back to my black Jeep sitting in the driveway at my house.

Iggy gives me an irritated look and gasps dramatically, clutching his heart. "This is what I get for offering to drive my baby boy Fangy to school? This is what I get?_ A lecture? _I'm heart broken."

I laugh and push him aside from the car, taking the keys in my hands. "Let me show you how to do it."

Iggy rolls his eyes. "Be my guest."

I slide in the keys but before turning them, I lean slightly against the door frame, adding pressure to the window. Once I hear the distinctive _pop_ I turn the key, opening the door casually.

Turning to Iggy, I see him next to me with a gaping mouth and furrowed eyebrows. "How . . . How'd you know how to do that?"

As I move towards the passangers seat I slip the keys into his hands and answer him humbly. "I don't know. It's just something I've picked up."

"Just something I picked up . . ." Iggy mumbles under his breath, mimicing me as he slips into the drivers seat.

Iggy and I drive in silence to my house, listening to a random station on the crappy radio. As we approach a stop light, confusion crosses Iggy's face. "Wait. What time is it?"

Glancing down at my wrist, I check my new rolex my Dad had bought me. It was nice . . . but too flashy for me. "It's almost 3."

I look over to my friend just as he makes a sharp U-turn.

"What the hell, Ig? That was such an illegal move! We could have just _died!"_ I yell at him, clutching to my seat. I look back over my shoulder at the honking cars behind us.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he tells me, rushing out his apologizes. "I just didn't realize how late it was. Can I drop you off after I pick up my Mom? She rold me if I'm late picking her up one more time I can't use her car again."

I start laughing at his urgency. "Yeah, sure whatever. But isn't your Mom's office twenty minutes away from here?"

"Yeah, so?"

I stare at him blankly. "What time does your Mom get off?"

A look of realization crosses Iggy's face. "At 3:10 . . ."

I nod slowly. "Exactly. We're never gonna make it, Ig. Sorry."

Iggy shakes his head determined as he reeves the engine. "We can do it . . ."

My eyes widen. "Iggy. No. Stop . . ."

He gulps. "Hang on."

_Five minutes later _Iggy and I are pulling into the parking lot of his Moms office.

Beside me, Iggy's laughing like a maniac. "Dude, that was insane! Let's do that again! Woohoo! Oh shit, Fang, you're pale white."

I'd figured. The blood must have rushed out o. My face from being so freaked out . . . or because of the pressure forced against me while Iggy was breaking the speed limit by about 40 miles . . .

"Dude just shut up," I tell him, getting out of the car. "Let's just go get your Mom. We never speak of this again as of now."

"Fair enough," Iggy replies reasonably.

We walk up the stone steps to Ms. Griffiths building that she worked in. Her practice specialized in teenage disorders, like anorexia, bulimia, bipolarism, etc. She gives therapy, and recommends medication to clients who need her help. Honestly, I thought her job was amazing. When I'd first met Iggy in the 6th grade and he told me what his Mom's job was, I was in awe. Me being so curious, I constantly asked Ms. Griffiths all the time about her patients.

Iggy walked in with me following, to the receptionist who was a heavy set lady in her mid 60's with an outdated pirm and bright blue eyeshadow and clothes probably that hadn't been washed enough. She smiled up at Iggy sweetly. "Hi, honey, here to get your Mom?"

Her response is a nod from Iggy. "Am I late?"

The receptionist giggles. "No, sweetie. You're early." At this, Iggy gives a look of satisfaction. "Go ahead and go back to see her," she offers, letting us go behind the desk that seperated us and into the small individial rooms for patients and therapists.

Both Iggy and I give a nod of graditude before moving towards the door Mr. Griffiths worked behind. Iggy nodded skeptically on the door. "Mom?"

"One second!" I hear his Mom call back.

Iggy furrows his eyebrows and leans forward, pressing his ear against the door.

"What are you doing?" I question him.

He presses his index finger to his lips and hushes me. "I'm listening to her patient she's with, what do you think I'm doing?"

I shake my head. "Dude, seriously? That's not right. Let's just go out in the waiting room for your Mom."

Iggy ignores me, concentrating on what he was hearing. "It sounds like a girl our age, maybe a little younger."

I shrug. "So? Let's just go."

He waves me off. "This chick is messed up. Wow . . ."

Now that just wasn't fair. He was leading me on. He knew I would start getting curious and who was I to deny that? "What? What's going on?"

Iggy gives me a respectful look. "She . . . she was sexual assualted when she was 12."

I look to the ground in disgust. "Dammit, Iggy, let's just go. This is none of our business."

Suddenly, the door swings open with Iggy almost falling in.

"Damn right, it's not," a petite girl says as she leans against the open door frame. She looks at me up and down with admiring eyes a soft brown, framed with thick eyelashes. Her full, delicate looking lips were pressed in a thin line with her skinny arms crosses against her tiny bony body. Golden hair flowed down her back, laying peacefully against her tight Navy blue t-shirt.

"I - I'm sorry," lamely I stutter out as I realize she's waiting for a response.

She rolls her eyes that then land on Iggy, still on the ground looking up at her, smirking. "He doesn't seem so sorry."

"He is," I insist as I lean down and help Iggy up.

Iggy starts to snap out of his haze. "Yeah. Yeah, I really am sorry." He looks to me out of the corner of his eyes and whispers to me, "She's fucking hot."

Casually, I slap him on he shoulder. "Oh, sorry, buddy, didn't mean to hit ya," I hiss out sarcastically.

Iggy glares, rubbing his upper arm and grumbles.

Ms. Griffiths appears in the doorwary next to the girl. "Max, this is Iggy, my idiot son, and his friend Fang," she says, introducing us.

"Hi, Max," I say, attempting an awkward wave.

Max gives me a small nod and glances back at Iggy. "He's Iggy, isn't he?"

Ms. Griffiths giggles. "Yeah, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"Very," Max agrees. She starts moving past me. "Well, my ride is probably here. See ya, Ms. Griffiths. Bye _Fang and Iggy."_

After I was sure she was gone, I turn to see Iggy wiggling his eyebrows at me. "So hot . . ."

This time, both Ms. Griffith and I slap him. Poor, sexist pigglet Iggy.

He'll never learn.

**Hey people! Soooooo how'd you like it? Let me know in a review! PLEASE. Thanks for reading!**

**Love**

**Laurel**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey people! PLEASE REVIEW PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! I'm trying my hardest to get this story going quickly by adding chapters quickly! I'm literally putting aside all my other stories just to put all my extra time towards writing this . . . So it means a lot to me when you guys review! I hope you enjoy this next chapter though!**

Chapter 2

I couldn't get her out of my mind. Max, I mean. Over and over, I would replay the senario when I first saw her. I envisioned the confident yet shielded way she walked, how easily she made quick comebacks. What I couldn't stop thinking about most were those beautiful gaurded eyes . . .

The next day, I asked Iggy if I could go with him again to pick up his Mom.

"But . . . why?" Iggy questioned me, giving a bewildered look. We were at school and it was lunch time. Since we were seniors, we were allowed to leave school grounds for lunch break. Iggy and I were driving into a 5 Guys parking lots when he'd asked me this.

Like usual, I shrugged. "Uhm I find it . . . interesting there and I –"

"You were hoping to see Max again, right?" He cuts me off.

I smirk. "No, I just wanted to ask your Mom about any tips for applying to colleges that focus on what she's doing."

Iggy raises an eyebrow at this. "Really, Fang. Seriously?"

Slowly, I nod. "Yup. I . . . want to be a therapist." Not a total lie, but I really did just want to see Max again - but I was never gonna let Iggy enjoy knowing that.

After we both order our burgers and sat down, Iggy kept staring at me.

"What?" I ask him with a mouthful of my burger in my mouth. The look he was giving me was making me loose my appetite.

His eys narrow. "You know, I can tell when you're lying."

I glare. "Really?" I say sarcastically.

"Mhmmm." He takes a long sip from his soda.

"And what am I lying about?" I ask, leading him on.

Politely, he takes a napkin and wipes his mouth (which was very out of character) and leaned back in his chair to look at me. "You're going to see Max."

He didn't ask this as a question. He stated this as a fact. Awkwardly, I look down into my hands. "Maybe . . ." I say as if I were a little kid, caught stealing a cookie form the cookie jar.

Iggy leans across the table and points to me. "Liar! Tell the truth!" He holds onto my shirt dramatically, pulling me near him.

"Fuck, Iggy, calm the hell down," I say flustered as I rip his hand away from the collar on my shirt.

Iggy starts cracking up from across me. "Aw, man, I'm sorry. I just saw that once on a Judge Joe Brown episode and I've always wanted to do it . . . So, sorry."

I shake my head back and forth. "Just don't ever do that again, deal?"

"Deal."

"How'd you know I was lying, though," I wondered outloud.

" 'Cause whenever you lie you clench your jaw . . . It's kinda obvious after you notice it," Iggy admits.

"Huh." I guess I actually do do that. I never thought about it until now.

"Alrighty . . . So now that we've got that cleared up. Max." Iggy slaps his hands together. "What's your deal with the chick?"

I sip on my soda casually. "What do you mean?"

"Do you like her?" Iggy dares to ask.

I choke on my soda and resist the urge to the clench my jaw. "No," I tell him defensively. "We just met her and only talked for, like, 30 seconds."

Again, Iggy stares at me, silent.

"_What?" _I say, getting frustrated.

Iggy shrugs and shoves a couple french fries in his mouth. "Nothing. I just shouldn't have told you how I always know when you're lying . . ."

"Why not?"

" 'Cause now I honestly don't know . . ."

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**Love, Laurel**


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